


In His Father's Image

by Eressë (eresse21)



Series: Greenleaf and Imladris [29]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Fourth Age, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-10 14:09:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1160611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eresse21/pseuds/Eress%C3%AB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Elladan’s twins approach their coming-of-age, history threatens to repeat itself and further afflict an already burdened heart. Twenty-ninth story in a series chronicling the millennia-spanning relationship of Legolas and Elrohir from the moment they meet beneath the eaves of Greenwood the Great to the years of the War of the Ring and beyond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offence is intended or profit made in my use of them._
> 
> Virtually nothing is known about Lindir except that he uttered exactly four lines in FotR and that, due to the meaning of his name, he may have been a minstrel. In the earlier parts of the series, I depicted him as the housemaster of the Last Homely House and occasional tutor to the Twins. But in this story, he is the chief steward of their estate, having taken over from Erestor who passed West with Glorfindel and Elrond at the end of the Third Age.

Imladris, _lairë_ F.A. 72  
Ordinarily, any transgression by the twins was duly reported to their parents or uncles and the resulting chastisement left in their more than capable hands. But this morning, Lindir chose to approach both directly and take them to task. He caught them as they headed for sword practice, hailing them before they stepped out of the house.

“Good morn, Lindir,” Elros cheerfully bade him. Elendir seconded the greeting.

“Not so good a morn for Master Aldrion,” Lindir pointedly said, ignoring their salutations. “What possessed you to stuff his beddings last night with all manner of trash?”

Both had enough grace to flush slightly at being found out so soon. But neither could repress the smug grins that curled their mouths. 

“‘Twas naught but dried leaves, Lindir,” Elendir said.

“‘Tis not as if we put anything harmful into the beddings,” Elros added.

“Nor is this something _Ada_ and Uncles Las and Rohir did not themselves do,” Elendir continued.

“And long after reaching their majorities at that,” Elros finished.

Lindir sighed and turned a stern countenance on them.

“But even at their worst, they took care not to inflict their jests on those unable to withstand them,“ he countered. “The Dale Master is old and crippled and half-blind. Yet for all his great age and difficulties, he tends to his duties well and is beloved of his people. It is the height of insolence for you to treat him so basely,” he reproved acidly. “Would you think it so amusing were someone to demean your sire in that same manner and he an Elf of noble, unblemished birth?”

The brethren stared at him in some surprise. It was rare for anyone other than their parents or Elrohir or Legolas to chasten them. Certainly they had seldom had occasion to bear the brunt of Lindir’s ire. Rivendell’s chief steward was, for the most part, sweet tempered and almost patient beyond belief. 

“But Lindir—” Elendir began to protest.

But Elros interrupted him and said: “Aye, Lindir. ‘Twas disrespectful of us. We will apologize to Master Aldrion soonest.”

“We will?” Elendir blurted out in surprise.

“Aye, we will,” Elros said. “Lindir is right, _gwanunig nîn_. We were imprudent in this instance and deserve to be chastised.”

Elendir was nonplussed at first but a moment later, he nodded and acceded to his brother’s rightness. “We will apologize to Master Aldrion,” he agreed. 

Lindir did not know whether to be pleased or puzzled. For the brethren to admit their fault so swiftly was astonishing. For that matter, for Elros to capitulate so easily... The younger twin had always been the more recalcitrant of the two. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly. 

To his bemusement, Elros suddenly looked discomfited while Elendir grinned in an oddly knowing way.

“Let us go,” Elros said abruptly and hurried towards the guest wing. Elendir shook his head in amusement and followed him. 

Lindir watched them go, his eyes keen on one of them in particular. He did not move from his position until the twins vanished from sight. But his intent regard had not gone unnoticed.

Elladan glanced at Elrohir and said, “Did you mark the look in his eyes?”

Elrohir nodded then gazed at his brother. “What of it?”

The twin lords of Imladris had been on their way out to the drill yard as well to assess the newest batch of warriors to be trained on the grounds of the Last Homely House. Even in these times of relative peace, the Elves had not let down their guard. There were still constantly spawning orcs to repel, the occasional rise of bands of brigands to deal with and the warring nations of the eastern lands to beware of. Harad may have at last settled her differences with the Reunited Kingdom but the tribes of Rhûn were still divided on this matter and, ever and anon, Easterling parties sought to raid the borders as of yore. Admittedly, such skirmishes were now rare but the Elves were not about to discard their duties to Middle-earth so easily. Not even in their waning days in the Hinter Lands. 

Elladan said, “I confess I did not believe Merenwë when he told me of it.”

Elrohir snorted. “How thoughtful of him to carry the tale to you,” he said acerbically.

Elladan frowned. “He spoke the truth nonetheless. I cannot deny it for I know that look. But I had not thought I would see it trained upon my own son and by our steward no less. In truth, it troubles me.”

“Why?”

The older twin glanced at the younger. “You are being deliberately obtuse, _gwanneth_ ”—younger twin—he remarked. “You are not blind or witless. You know of what I speak.”

Elrohir’s spear-gaze alighted with unnerving steeliness on his brother. Any other would have been abashed. As it was Elladan was simply somewhat taken aback.

“You recognize Lindir’s yearning because he looks upon Elros as I once regarded Legolas long before he knew of my love,” he stated baldly. When Elladan stared at him, wondering at his demeanor, he added, “You disapprove.”

“Elros is still ten years from his majority,” Elladan pointed out. “Of course, I disapprove.”

“Of his attraction or the timing of it?”

“Both. ‘Tis not meet, Elrohir. It disturbs me that of all the Elves in Arda he should look just so upon my child.”

Elrohir’s mouth tightened. “It troubles you that he harbors what you deem an unseemly interest in Elros. In much the same manner that I once desired, quite disturbingly, our closest friend.”

Elladan caught his breath at the sharpness of his brother’s tone. “Elrohir, I am not chastening you belatedly for that matter!” he softly exclaimed.

“Nor am I so foolish to think you are, brother,” the other rejoined. 

“Then why this-this rancor?” Elladan said bewilderedly. “Is it wrong for a father to desire to protect his children? I am only perturbed by the impropriety of his conduct and would ask him to turn his attention elsewhere!”

Elrohir said, “You speak of Lindir’s feelings with cavalier regard. As if ‘tis a simple matter to dismiss another’s feelings because they are troublesome to you.” He faced Elladan squarely. “Had Legolas thought as you, think you I would be here now?”

Elladan stared at his brother in speechlessness, reminded of a sudden of the confluence of events that had spared him and his twin that most wrenching of partings. 

“Forgive me, Elrohir,” he said at length. “In your present bliss, I had forgotten what you endured ere you won it.” He peered in comprehension at his brother. “You sympathize with him.”

“Yet I would turn against him were he to hurt Elros,” Elrohir said. “But I do not believe that he will. I think he would sooner suffer that hurt than ever let it touch the one he cares for.” He hesitated. “As he always has.”

Elladan grew even more confused. “As he always has?” he repeated. “You speak in riddles. What do you know that I do not?”

“‘Tis not right for me to reveal another’s secrets,” Elrohir said. He placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I think you had best talk to Lindir about this. Then will you understand more fully why I do not fear his intent.”

Elladan peered at him curiously then nodded.

oOoOoOo

It was some days later before the suggested talk came about. Elladan awaited Lindir in the study, still puzzled by his brother’s cryptic allusions. The door opened and the steward entered. Elladan regarded him thoughtfully.

His father’s departure for Aman at the end of the last age had heralded the leave-taking of Middle-earth by many of Rivendell’s Noldorin residents, Glorfindel amongst them. Naturally, Erestor had gone with his spouse. That had necessitated many changes in rank amongst the remaining denizens of the Last Homely House and the vale at large. Glorfindel’s second-in-command, Daurin, had become captain of the Imladrin forces and his binding-mate, Enedrion, was now his lieutenant. Iörwen had taken over as housekeeper and her husband, Ailios, as chief counsellor. And Lindir had been named chief steward.

The Elf had more than proved his worthiness of the position. Though better known outside of Rivendell for his musical genius, Lindir had been a most able housemaster in Elrond’s day, not to mention a sage teacher to the many Elflings who had once graced the valley and, when the need arose, a competent warrior as well. 

Like Erestor, he was of mixed heritage, his mother a Noldo from Eregion and his father a Sinda of Silvan ancestry from ancient Doriath. He was dark-haired as was the wont for the Noldor, his tresses a rich, deep brown that gleamed with bronzed light when kissed by the sun’s golden rays. His eyes, however, where unusual amongst the Noldor or even the Sindar. They were a light hazel, a trait attributed to his Wood-elven forebears. In all, there was no denying the steward’s striking comeliness.

Elladan gestured to him to take a seat before the elegant desk that had been Elrond’s in days gone by. He himself sat on one edge of it, as ill at ease in the lordly high-backed chair behind it as Elrohir.

“I summoned you because a matter of import has come to my attention,” he said tentatively. 

“What matter is this, my lord?” Lindir inquired formally.

“It has to do with my sons' tutelage under you,” the Elf-lord continued. “I wonder if ‘tis wise for them to continue thusly.” 

Save for the slight darkening of his eyes, Lindir did not evince any of the sense of offence he surely must have felt. “You doubt my abilities?” he merely inquired cautiously,

Elladan shook his head. “Nay, never that. No one can fault you for that, not even Merenwë for all his conceit.” He paused. “But I do wonder about your feelings regarding Elros.” At the raised eyebrows of the steward, the Elvenlord continued. “I have seen how you regard him, Lindir. You love him.”

Lindir was speechless for a moment. “I did not think I had been so open about my feelings,” he murmured.

“You were not until this summer.”

“And that distresses you. Forgive me, my lord, it shall not happen again.”

“Concealing your feelings is not the same as ridding yourself of them. You would continue to love him though you hide it.”

The steward suddenly understood Elladan’s concern. “You do not trust me with him,” he said with some shock. “You think I would take advantage of my position and seduce him.”

Elladan stirred uncomfortably at the blunt statement. “Elros is young and still easily persuaded,” he softly pointed out. “You have much influence over him, Lindir. I would remind you of your charge.”

Lindir gazed at his lord. Elladan was startled by the pain that flickered in the eyes of the other Elf. He was silent for a long while. Finally, he seemed to decide something. He looked straight at Elladan, his gaze unwavering. 

“Your father entrusted you to my care even if he knew of _my_ feelings,” he very quietly stated. 

Elladan gaped at him in shock. “Your feelings?” he repeated incredulously. 

“Aye.”

The Elvenlord was thoroughly disconcerted by his discovery. “You never said anything,” he finally managed. “Never gave me reason to think you felt something for me.”

"'Twas not my place to do so,” Lindir said. “You were my lord’s son, I a mere housemaster and one to whose care you had been entrusted.” He shook his head. “It would not have been meet for me to use that to my advantage.”

Elladan fell silent for a space. “I am sorry, Lindir,” he said at length. “Had I known I might have...” He trailed off somewhat awkwardly.

“Taken me to your bed?” A small humorless smile graced the steward’s handsome features. “Nay, my lord, I would not have accepted such an invitation had it been given. I could not bear the knowledge of your body, but not your heart. ‘Tis not my way.” He sighed. "'Tis easy to take to bed those from whom you expect nothing more than physical release. But to love someone and know you are but one in a multitude of lovers... I could not endure that.”

Elladan reddened a little. His days of promiscuous adventuring were long past now that he had his Nimeithel but the memories sometimes came back to haunt him as they did now in the face of Lindir’s confession. He could only imagine the heartbreak of the steward, watching from afar as the one he loved freely shared his body with others whilst he himself was forbidden the pleasure because of honor and duty.

“How is it that you did not fade?” he half whispered.

“Because you needed my services,” Lindir answered honestly. “In that I found some satisfaction. To know you were safe and happy and contented... ’twas enough to stave off the grief.” He regarded the Elf-lord with open affection though it was no longer tinged with the desire he had once held for him. “Elladan,” he said addressing him more personally, “if I did not touch you even when I loved you more than life itself, why would I do so now with Elros? Not that he would desire someone beneath his station.”

Elladan snapped his head up at that. “You are not beneath anyone’s station, Lindir,” he firmly stated. His eyes softened at the steward’s sad smile. He came to a sudden decision. “Nor would I forbid you to approach him once he is of age.”

Lindir stared at him in astonishment. “You are generous,” he said, touched by Elladan’s compassion. “But nothing will come of my feelings. Elros deserves someone closer in age and more learned and noble.”

Elladan snorted. “And you are not learned and noble?” he countered. “You who has ably taught my sons these past many years and won their respect and regard? Who has served this family with all honor and faithfulness? And as for age, I do not recall any objections to the vast difference in years between my sister and Estel.”

Lindir started then blushed. “Be that as it may, Elros does not return my feelings,” he said heavily. “I am no more than a trusted friend and teacher to him.”

“How do you know that?”

“He looks at me in much the same way you once did.”

Elladan flinched inwardly at the choice of words. He knew Lindir held nothing against him and still cared for him as a friend and liege lord. Nevertheless, it recalled to him his youthful callousness and he found himself hoping his sons would not follow in his footsteps. At least, he hoped Elros would not for the steward’s sake.

Lindir had risen with the air of one waiting to be dismissed. Elladan nodded his acquiescence. But just as the steward opened the door, he said, “I will trust you with my son, Lindir. And should he yield it, with his heart as well. More I cannot say.”

The Elf gazed back at him in wonder. Then he smiled gently and murmured, “Thank you.” With that he left the study.

Elladan sat back in his chair musingly. “You knew?” he said.

Elrohir stepped out from the shallow recess beside the wide bookshelf along the near wall. He looked at his brother sympathetically.

“Not at first,” he admitted. “But when I came to love Legolas, I realized I had a kindred spirit in Lindir.” He looked out the window by the shelf, memories gentling his fierce eyes. Crossing the garden beyond, bow and quiver and nephews in tow, was his golden spouse. “We both knew what it was to love in vain.”

“You never told me,” Elladan chided mildly.

“And what would you have done?” Elrohir queried pointedly. “Assuaged his longing with one night in your bed? He said it quite succinctly. He would never have endured your pity any more than I could have borne Legolas’s.”

Elladan fell silent for a space. After a while, he looked at his brother, love gentling his storm blue eyes as he noted the softened grey eyes that watched his beloved from afar. He rose and snaked an arm around Elrohir’s shoulders. 

“My good fortune is that I found my reward at last,” Elrohir murmured. “Lindir has not.” 

Elladan sighed. He said with all sincerity, “I pray that my sons will not be as blind and careless as I was and be the source of another’s misery.”

Elrohir nodded. “A word of caution, _gwaniuar_. Beware Merenwë’s motive for apprising you of this matter. I wager he shares Lindir’s yearning and only seeks to rid himself of a potential rival.”

Elladan’s brow creased anew. “Think you he has designs on Elros?”

“It would not surprise me,” the Elf-knight replied. “But I would be more wary of his intentions. I doubt he has as many scruples as Lindir does.”

A dry smile graced Elladan’s fine mouth. “It is ironic, is it not, that to protect my son from one potential lover, I have placed him in the keeping of another.”

Elrohir’s lips quirked into a humorless grin. “The difference is that one merely seeks to use love for his own ends while the other truly feels it in his heart.”

Elladan could not disagree. “More than ever I wish Merenwë left for Valinor with _Adar_. Have you ever wondered why he chose to stay on?”

Elrohir shrugged. “For no commendable reason, I am certain,” he said. “If only it were permissible to send him away, I would do it at once. He grows ever more tiresome, Elladan.”

“I will not gainsay you, _gwanneth_ ,” Elladan replied. “Let us hope that fate will give us a good enough reason to do so.”

“And soonest,” Elrohir added with a wry chuckle. 

***************************************  
Glossary:  
lairë – Quenya for summer  
gwanunig nîn – my twin  
Ada/Adar – Papa/Father  
gwaniuar – older twin

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

Imladris, _tuilë_ F.A. 77  
The arrows struck in lightning succession in an almost impossibly straight line down the trunk of the tree, none embedded more shallowly or deeply than their fellows. Such precision and delicacy elicited a round of praise from Elladan’s sons for their woodland uncle’s inimitable display of mastery.

“That is splendid, Uncle Legolas,” Elendir declared. “If I can come close to even just half of what you can do in archery, I should be blissfully content.”

“Aye, no one can match you,” Elros agreed, eyes shining with awe.

Legolas smiled and shook his head. “Your father and Elrohir are most capable of matching me, _pin nith_ ”—young ones—he countered.

“On occasion,” Elros said. “But ‘tis the exception rather than the rule.”

“And they have not bested you since you came into your own,” Elendir added. “Uncle Elrohir says none ever will, so peerless is your skill.”

Legolas’s smile widened, as always pleased with any compliment from his darkling spouse.

“He praises me overmuch,” he murmured, coloring slightly to the twins’ delight. “Come now, retrieve the arrows that we may continue.”

He regarded his nephews proudly as they sprinted to do as they were bid. In their forty-fifth year, they were beautiful as only the Peredhil could be, but slighter of build than either Elladan or Elrohir. Still young for their kindred, they were more slender even than Legolas. But the approach of maturity heralded the imminence of well-formed torsos and limbs. And in the last four years, they had undergone another growth spurt. They would be as tall as their sire, of that the prince was certain.

Legolas smiled a little wistfully. They had grown in more than body. He still missed the affectionate diminutives of ‘Las’ and ‘Rohir’ that the twins had bestowed on him and Elrohir up to their fortieth year. But in the time since, they had weaned themselves from many childhood habits, slowly preparing themselves for adulthood not only in form but in mind as well. 

They were still as capable of mischief as their father and uncles had been at the same age. But they were more tempered now, guided by sage counsel, tender discipline and utter, unconditional love. The opposing sides of their natures had also began to blossom. Thus Elendir, who had tended to be the more obliging and diplomatic of the two was learning to be just a shade more demanding and stubborn, while Elros, the impatient, oft mule-headed and sharp-tongued twin, was slowly uncovering his gentler, more giving side. 

Whether such changes were the natural course of growing up or the benign influence of their environment was of no matter. What was of import to all was that Elladan’s sons were bidding fair to match their father and his twin in the comeliness of their features, bodies and spirits. Without a doubt, Legolas welcomed their burgeoning maturity but, at the same time, he also regretted the disappearance of the innocent Elflings he had loved so well.

They returned to him and he set them to practicing their skills as he did whenever he and Elrohir came north to visit. 

From his vantage point a few paces back, Lindir watched the trio with quiet enjoyment. It was always a pleasure for him to regard such martial grace and skill in action. Though he was a capable warrior, he owned himself no master of the battle-arts. Thus, he appreciated those who were and admired them greatly for the hard work and discipline they put into perfecting their skills.

The three Elves before him were more than worthy of anyone’s admiration. Legolas was as renowned a warrior as the senior Peredhil twins were. And Elladan’s sons showed every indication of following in their father and uncles’ legendary footsteps. 

Some time later, Legolas released them into Ailios’s care; the chief advisor had come to fetch them for their history lessons. The prince stayed on to continue his drill. 

Lindir followed the brethren with his eyes as they headed back to the house with Ailios. He could not help focusing his gaze on one twin in particular.

“You aim high, Lindir.”

The snidely uttered insinuation made him stiffen. But he stifled the impulse to return a caustic retort and turned to face Merenwë. 

“I beg your pardon, counsellor?” he quietly said.

“You heard me,” the advisor snipped. “Ever have you set your sights on your betters. To no avail, thank Eru. It would not do for such illustrious _Edhil_ to stoop so low.”

The steward’s cheeks burned at the slight but he maintained his calm.

“You were ever tart of tongue, Merenwë,” he remarked. “But of late, you have become overly sharp.”

“If I have, ‘tis to protect those I serve,” Merenwë replied.

Lindir raised a finely arched eyebrow. “To protect them or to possess them?” At Merenwë’s slight surprise, he continued: “You hope to ally yourself with the Peredhil through one of Lord Elladan’s sons. Do not think I have not marked your unwonted interest in Elros.”

This time it was Merenwë’s turn to flush. Collecting himself, he looked disdainfully at the steward.

“Whatever my interests, it changes not the fact that a mere steward and former housemaster should know better than to aspire to bed his own lord’s son. _Or_ his own lord for that matter!” When Lindir paled at so base an accusation, he said sneeringly: “Think you I did not note your regard for Lord Elladan? ‘Tis fortunate he had the good taste not to return it.” He shrugged contemptuously. “What is it about you Sindar? Always, you strive to ennoble yourselves through alliances with the Noldor. ‘Tis a deplorable practice that—”

He broke off as a slender figure silently joined them. He pursed his thin lips when Legolas smilingly planted himself beside Lindir. The archer’s smile did not reach his eyes.

“That is a fascinating contention, Merenwë,” Legolas coolly commented. “Are you suggesting that I ennobled myself by binding to Elrohir?”

Merenwë turned diplomatic all at once. “‘Twas but a turn of phrase, my prince,” he offered. “An imprudent one, I admit.”

“An uncivil one as well,” Legolas amended. “You dislike my kindred, it seems. Yet the Peredhil themselves are descended from both Noldor and Sindar and even the mortal _Edain_. Do you deem yourself their superior?”

“Of course not!” Merenwë snapped, his superciliousness getting the better of him. “Lord Elrond should have been High-king after Ereinion had he only accepted what was his by right. We speak of scions of the line of Turgon of Gondolin, himself descended from the Elvenkings of Eldamar!’

“Why do you not mention Thingol of Doriath who beheld the Two Trees but chose to remain in these Hither Lands? Is it because he cast his lot with mere Wood-elves?” Lindir softly but pointedly said.

Merenwë bristled. “The Peredhil have always comported themselves as Noldor!” he said harshly.

“And have ever taken Sindar as their mates,” Legolas drawled gibingly. “Not to mention mortals.”

The counsellor reddened. “That is a regrettable fault of theirs.”

“Ah, you do dislike my kindred,” Legolas said, his voice a shade colder.

Forgetting himself, Merenwë dropped all pretense at civility. “What is there to like in a folk who seek to raise their stock by coupling and breeding with those of nobler blood than theirs?” His dark eyes suddenly flashed viciously at Legolas. The archer was surprised but did not flinch. “Even you, O Prince! And you not even Thranduil’s heir but merely his third-spawn.”

Suspicion flared in Legolas’s mind. He skewered the advisor with a gaze so black it prompted the latter to take a hasty step backward. 

“And did you once seek to ennoble yourself as well, Merenwë?” he growled. “And in failing would now vent your spleen on me?”

Merenwë blanched at the blunt accusation. He trembled visibly, barely able to suppress his fear and anger. 

“You speak nonsense, Wood-elf!” he snarled.

“You forget your place, Merenwë!” Lindir objected, shocked at such blatant disrespect shown to the woodland prince. “You cannot speak thusly to your lord!”

The counsellor regarded him haughtily. “He is not _my_ lord,” he snapped. “Merely the mate of him who is.” 

With that, he turned and strode back briskly to the house. Legolas and Lindir watched him go, both careful to hold in their ire.

“He shows his true colors,” Legolas remarked acidly. “He has harbored his resentments for years.”

Lindir nodded. “Aye, but I did not think he would dare demean you,” he said angrily. “Is he mad?”

“Nay, only so filled with rage that he no longer used his reason,” Legolas replied. 

“But surely he fears what Lord Elrohir will do once he hears of this,” Lindir commented.

“I wager he thinks that, in our benighted woodland pride, we will hold our tongues rather than own ourselves in need of the protection of others.”

“He is not only mad then, but also a fool,” Lindir said. He looked keenly at Legolas. “My lords must hear of this.”

“They will,” Legolas assured him. “I am not so proud that I would conceal so flagrant an offence from my mate. Merenwë must be chastened lest he grows bolder and heaps abuse on others less able to defend themselves.”

Lindir smiled faintly then. “Speaking of which, you so kindly did for me,” he said. “My thanks.” 

“I merely hearkened to our common heritage,” Legolas answered. “As well as our common preference for twins of the Peredhil line.”

Lindir shook his head. “What Merenwë said—”

“Was all too true,” Legolas interrupted gently. At Lindir’s uncertain reaction, he added, “There is little that Elladan keeps from Elrohir and even less that Elrohir hides from me.”

“You are not appalled?” Lindir asked warily.

“I should say not,” Legolas rejoined. “If I have one cause for worry, it is that mayhap you have turned your affection to Elros because he is so alike to his father.” He regarded Lindir closely. “Is it Elros you love or the image of Elladan that you see in him?”

Lindir shook his head. “I have put the past behind me,” he said. “What I felt once for Elladan is but a memory to me now. Elros owes his place in my heart to no one.” He looked at Legolas unflinchingly. “I love him and him alone.”

Legolas nodded and relaxed. A slow smile spread across his lips. “Then we are in accord. I wish you well, Lindir, and as much luck as you may need.”

Lindir sighed. “And as I told Elladan, ‘tis most unlikely anything will come out of my regard for his son.”

“You do not know that,” the archer said. “Any more than I knew that Elrohir would choose a mere Wood-elf to espouse.”

“You are not a mere Wood-elf!” Lindir objected indignantly.

“Yet I am a pure-blood of my kindred whereas you are half-Noldo,” Legolas pointed out. “By Merenwë’s twisted estimation, that elevates you a notch higher even than my own father.”

Lindir sniffed contemptuously. “Merenwë can stuff his idiotic opinions up his backside!’ 

The prince burst out laughing, the sound of it so infectious that Lindir joined him an instant later. They shared a few moments of mirth at the advisor’s expense. After a spell, Legolas quelled his laughter and placed a comradely hand on Lindir’s shoulder.

“The Peredhil decide for themselves who are worthy of them,” he said. “They set no great store by the trappings of position or the traditions of race and blood. Their choices of mates have ever been dictated by their noble hearts and no other considerations.” He smiled warmly. “Else Elessar would not now have the Evenstar as his queen, my sister would not be the mother of Elladan’s sons and I would not know the bliss of my Elf-knight’s blessed regard.”

The archer’s kindling eyes softened as he spoke this last. Lindir had to smile at such patent joy. Though he did not believe so happy a fate would be his, he rejoiced nonetheless in the felicity of others.

oOoOoOo

The quill scratched repeatedly across the crisp sheet of parchment. Legolas watched his sable-maned knight as the other pressed on with the numerous missives he needed to send come morning.

They had retired from company for the night but, in Elrohir’s case, not from duty. Though bathed and already clad as Legolas in naught but a night-robe, he had seated himself at the handsome writing desk in their bedchamber to finish his correspondence. Legolas waited patiently on their bed, long legs pulled up and slender arms wrapped around his knees. But after a long while, patience gave out. 

“Elrohir.”

“Hm?”

“Did you ever bed Merenwë?”

The quill stopped moving with a jerk and disbelieving grey eyes alighted on the archer. Elrohir stared at Legolas in downright surprise.

“Why do you ask?”

“Why do you evade?”

The Elf-knight regarded his mate curiously then laid down his quill and turned in the chair to face him.

“Aye, I did,” he answered in all honesty.

Legolas’s eyes darkened with displeasure but he only said, “Before you had me, I hope.”

Elrohir frowned. “No other _ellon_ followed you, beloved,” he said. “I wanted no other.”

The blue eyes lightened and a wan smile curled the rosy lips. “I wonder that you could stomach him.”

Elrohir shrugged. “He was not so irksome as he is now. And I was indiscriminate in my youth. A fact of which you are well aware.”

“He was a challenge?”

“Nay, he showed me no resistance in the least. He was no more than a bed-treat to me.” He turned even more curious as Legolas seemed to ponder something. “What is this about, Legolas?” 

The prince sighed and rested his chin on his knees. “It explains much.”

“Explains what?”

“Why he did not depart with your father for Aman. Why he has never shown me more than the barest courtesy.”

Elrohir rose from his chair and joined his golden spouse on the bed. Facing Legolas, he peered wonderingly at him.

“What mischief did he wreak on you, Calenlass?” he asked frowningly.

“Not mischief but his bile,” Legolas replied. “And as much on Lindir as on me.”

Elrohir’s eyes darkened ominously. “Tell me.”

“He desired you, Aduial,” the archer said. At the Elf-knight’s shock, he went on. “When you took him to your bed, he misguidedly believed you returned his desire. No doubt he discerned soon enough where you had bestowed your love, but when I did not seem inclined to return it, he thought he still stood a chance of winning you.” 

Elrohir pursed his lips with displeasure. “Then I was his reason for staying here,” he murmured.

Legolas nodded. “And I to blame for denying him his chance with you.”

Elrohir snorted. “I would have sooner kissed an orc than bound myself to that arrogant son-of-a-troll,” he growled. “What else did he say?”

Legolas told him the rest. By the time he finished, the Elf-knight’s eyes had blackened to coal grey, their argent hue subdued by his still fury. “The gall of that blackguard to show you so little respect! And to demean Lindir’s feelings when he knows nothing of true love—!” The warrior looked fit to skin the counsellor alive and roast him to a fine turn.

“But what if he does know?” Legolas mused. “Surely if he cared only for the benefits of an alliance with your house, he would not have fixed his eyes on Elros alone. Mayhap he does have some affection for him.”

“ _His_ questionable notion of affection, if so,” Elrohir retorted. “But I seriously doubt that, Calenlass. If he desires to woo Elros ‘tis not because of love but because of expediency. Elendir has shown a decided inclination for female-kind while Elros has displayed no marked preference for one or the other.” His eyes narrowed. “Merenwë has outstayed his welcome,” he said icily. “‘Tis time he was asked to take his leave of Imladris.”

Legolas did not hide his pleasure at this pronouncement. “But whatever possessed your father to accept him as a counsellor in the first place?” he inquired.

“Ill-founded gratitude,” Elrohir explained. “When it was learned that he was building Imladris, many Elves from Lindon came to help or seek new challenges. Merenwë was one of them. He was more tolerable in those days and much of his counsel was sound enough to gain him a place amongst _Adar_ ’s advisors.”

“Not to mention your bed,” Legolas could not help putting in.

“Calenlass,” Elrohir said warningly. “‘Twas but part of the folly of my reckless youth, nothing more.” He reached out and cupped the prince’s chin in his hand. “Surely he did not make you doubt the rightness of our love?”

At that, Legolas suddenly beamed brightly. “Not in the least! You are mine, Elrohir. I defy anyone to try and take you away from me.”

The silver of the warrior’s eyes flamed anew. With startling swiftness, he pried Legolas’s arms from his knees, summarily parted his legs and all but hauled the prince onto his lap. Gasping, Legolas found himself astride the Elf-knight’s groin and in danger of impalement upon a sudden and most potent arousal. He groaned as Elrohir nibbled at his throat even as he yanked his night-robe open to bare the archer to his touch.

Legolas nearly reared when the twin’s hand slipped between them to cup and fondle him until he was aching with a wild and wanton need.

“You are wicked,” he panted when Elrohir grasped him by the hips and positioned him for their joining.

“Should I stop?” Elrohir teasingly inquired.

“Only if you do not value your life, Elf-knight!” Legolas retorted.

Whereupon Elrohir proceeded to show him how much he valued his life. And the love that made it worth living. 

*********************************  
Glossary:  
tuilë – Quenya for spring  
ellon – male Elf

_To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3

The woods of Rivendell in spring were lovely beyond compare. Clad as they were in the first blossoms of the waking year, fragrant with the heady scents of lush greenery and pungent herbs, alive with the music of birds returning to their northern nests—the hidden vale’s forests were the closest the Hither Lands’ would ever get to the enchanted woods of the Blessed Realm now that Lothlórien was but a memory.

But Elros paid neither beauty nor scents nor sounds much heed as he walked musingly down one of the many paths that cut through the woods. The younger son of Elladan was the more introspective of the brethren and, this afternoon, he was deeper in thought than usual.

Though alike in face and form to his father and his father’s twin, in nature he was more akin to the brother of the Peredhel he had been named after. It had not been readily apparent at first, this similarity in thought and spirit to Elrond. But in recent years, as his coming-of-age drew closer and his maturity deepened, Elros had begun to manifest many of his grandsire’s qualities. 

They were in their nascent stages as yet but there was no denying Elrond’s traits in his younger grandson. His quiet yet forceful presence, his wisdom, both inborn and learned, his almost preternatural calm, and his gentleness that concealed a latent ferocity that came to the fore when peril threatened. Though mere minutes younger than Elendir, there were times he seemed the elder and by many years.

But in one matter he differed from his grandfather and from his sire and brother as well. He yearned not for his mother’s kind but for his father’s.

That had puzzled him initially. He had expected to feel the pull towards both male and female-folk. After all, both Elladan and Elrohir had known such mixed stirrings and, belatedly, even Legolas. Yet it seemed he and Elendir were fated to follow essentially different paths in matters of the heart.

Elendir was definitely enamored of womankind. He delighted in the displays of affection between their parents; would dare, as many a brash young Elf had done since time immemorial, to observe unseen the charms of the _ellith_ of the valley. And of these there was a renewed abundance. Many had come from forsaken Lórien while others had abandoned the wandering companies to settle for a spell in Imladris. 

But Elros, while appreciative of said charms and thrilled by the passion of his parents, simply did not yearn for an _elleth_ ’s touch. It was not the soft silk of females he longed for but the hard steel of males.

He had realized this when he came upon his uncles one hot summer day by the Bruinen and found himself stirred by what they shared as he had never been before. It had not even been a carnal act that he had witnessed; merely the evidence of the deep intimacy of their hearts and spirits.

Legolas and Elrohir had just emerged from the bracing waters of the Loudwater and had only donned their long breeches when horseplay ensued. Their admittedly long years were no hindrance to their occasional penchant for merriment of the juvenile sort. In the course of their playful wrestling, Elrohir had backed Legolas up against a tree. In the next instant, they were both locked in a long, all consuming kiss of deep affection. 

Neither had attempted to extend the caress into a more thorough interlude; both had a full day of duties to attend to. But the image of their lean, muscular forms molded against each other, powerful warrior’s hands holding the other close and fierce unflinching gazes promising more than clutches and kisses later in the deeps of the night had lingered in Elros’s mind. It had left him all but undone for the first time in his young life and awakened the dormant yearnings of his maturing body and heart.

In particular, one yearning. He sighed in frustration. It was so difficult when one was still too young to indulge one’s self in more than self-applied caresses. On these, his father and uncles had been most informative, their consideration for his and his twin’s budding desires moving them to explain in startling detail what both might expect when they finally could and did engage partners in more intimate play. But until then, they had to content themselves with their own devices.

Tradition frowned upon Elves in their minority satisfying their concupiscence in partnership with another. More abhorred was the taking of a child by a mature _Edhel_ , even in the name of instruction.

And Elros knew he _was_ a child still in the eyes of his elders. Until his coming-of-age, his favors were forbidden to anyone, _ellyn_ and _ellith_ alike. Until he reached his majority five years hence, he could not seek tutelage in that most intimate act of the love-arts.

He suddenly smiled and a sparkle lit his unusual eyes. At least, he already knew just who he would approach to tutor him when that much anticipated time arrived. Not for him a chance encounter that might or might not culminate in enlightenment. Nay, he would not learn his bed-manners in the arms of a stranger. His would be more than an initiation into the mere joining of bodies. What he had learned several summers back boded a gentle coupling of hearts as well.

So deep was he in this pleasant thought that he did not sense the presence of another until the other was nigh upon him. He whirled, body tensing not in alarm for he was within the secure bounds of Imladris, but in wariness of any unexpected situation as he had been assiduously trained to do since the onset of his adolescence.

“Merenwë!” he softly exclaimed in surprise. What was the counsellor doing, skulking after him like that?

The advisor halted, a little taken aback by the youth’s swift reflexes. He shrank back, looking quite unlike his usual dapper, confident and condescending self. He was not formally be-robed for office as was his habit and the plaiting of his black tresses left something to be desired in neatness.

“Are you well, counsellor?” Elros queried in concern, approaching the other. He was not particularly close to the advisor nor had he had enough dealings with him to predispose him toward or against him. He was cognizant of others’ grumblings regarding the latter’s behavior and tart tongue but Elros had never been one to judge others by hearsay, even during his most recalcitrant years.

He stopped, however, when he detected the faintest reek of alcohol. Merenwë had imbibed quite a bit it seemed though he was far from inebriated. Elros frowned in even more concern.

“Is it not a little early to have indulged yourself so fulsomely?” he remarked somewhat disapprovingly.

Merenwë directed a startlingly emotion-filled stare at him. “You would indulge yourself as well were you the recipient of such news as I had to bear this day,” he bleated.

“What news?”

“I have been dismissed,” he announced. At the younger Elf’s confused reaction, he pressed on. “The Lords Elladan and Elrohir bade me depart from Imladris and return to Lindon. They informed me that they no longer have need of my services.” He shuddered.

Elros frowned more deeply. Merenwë had served his family since the Second Age. It seemed quite unfair to send him away now and so arbitrarily at that.

“On what grounds did they request you to leave?” he inquired.

Merenwë’s mouth tightened. “Because I was foolish enough to have revealed a long hidden affection.”

Elros was all the more appalled. That was not at all something he’d expected his father or uncle to do. Why banish someone for falling in love?

“There must be an error,” he cautiously suggested. “They would not judge anyone because of a belatedly admitted love.”

“They would if that love was for one of their own.” When Elros gasped, he trained an unabashedly feeling gaze upon him. “If it was for you, my young lord.”

Elros swallowed hard, speechless for the moment. “I never suspected—” he haltingly said. “But I am flattered that-that one so august as yourself should hold such a regard for me.”

“Are you, _pen neth_?”—young one—Merenwë purred. The unexpected intimate tone of his voice caused both a learned wave of caution and a natural thrill of reaction to course through Elros’s nerves.

“But of course, counsellor,” he replied. “Who would not?” Slightly alarmed by the darkened gleam in the others eyes, he quickly added: “But I still do not understand. You have never approached me before. Why would they condemn you for feeling thusly about me?”

“Because Lindir carried the tale to them,” Merenwë replied, his voice edged with venom.

Elros gaped. “Lindir?”

“Aye. Your steward betrayed my confidences in him. He told them of my feelings and worse.” The advisor’s features darkened angrily. “He suggested I had less than honorable designs on you.”

Elros shook his head, incredulous. “Why would he—?”

“Because he feels for you as I do.”

Elros went still. He regarded Merenwë steadily, a commendable response in one so young whose life had been so summarily rocked by sordid revelations.

Encouraged by Elros’s silence, Merenwë went on. “He desires you, Elros. He has been eyeing you for some time now, has oft stalked you when you were unaware of his presence.” He could not stay a small smile when the other caught his breath in shock. “He would have long taken you for his own, _pen neth_ , against all dictates of our kindred’s laws were it not for my vigilance.”

Elros stared at him. “Your vigilance?”

“I have kept watch over him these many years since I first discerned his unholy yearnings. I feared for your innocence should he forswear the traditions of our people and touch you afore your appointed time.” He reached out a hand and stroked the youth’s smooth cheek. “Verily have I protected your virtue, Elros, out of love for you.”

To his surprise, Elros’s eyes suddenly turned icy. The young Elf jerked back his head, stepped away out of his reach.

“You lie!” he snapped. “Lindir would never do anything so base!”

“But he would,” Merenwë insisted, bemused at what had so precipitately set Elros against him. “I have seen him follow you around; witnessed how he observes you at the most unseemly occasions. I have even caught him studying you when you use the public baths.”

“Mayhap ‘tis you who indulges in such unseemly behavior,” Elros hissed. When Merenwë flushed, the young Elf knew himself to be correct in his suspicion. “Begone! I will hear no more of this!”

Elros spun on his heel to leave. He was shocked, therefore, when Merenwë grabbed him by the arm and forced him back.

“You would defend the steward and impugn my honor in one breath?” he growled, his less than sober state more apparent now in the slight slurring of his words in his agitation. “I will teach you your manners, _hîr neth_! ‘Tis time someone did and I see no reason why I should not be the one to do so!”

Elros broke away, tried to run, but was caught in strong arms. Yet he was no helpless Elfling and he jabbed his elbow into the other’s belly. Merenwë partly released him with a grunt and he shoved the counsellor away. Pushed beyond reason, the latter swung furiously at him. Evading the blow, Elros managed to hook his leg behind the other’s knees and trip him. Merenwë fell.

Again, Elros whirled to flee. He had been trained to fight and defend himself but he was no fool to believe himself a match for a full-grown Elf. Warrior Merenwë was not but, as had most Noldor, he had seen his share of war and been as much soldier as counsellor in his youth. 

Merenwë lunged forward on his belly and grasped the lad’s ankle. Pulling hard, he sent Elros sprawling. Before the young Elf could scramble to his feet, the advisor was upon him.

oOoOoOo

Lindir hesitated as he walked down the forest path. He wondered if he was doing the right thing or not.

He had earlier watched from afar as Elros went for a leisurely stroll in this stretch of woods that he favored. He had not meant to spy on the youth at all but had been on his way back from a visit to the outlying communities in the vale. As chief steward, it was his duty to every once in a while to check on the well-being of the citizens of Imladris. He was just returning from one such trip when he saw Elladan’s son vanish into the forest. 

He had not thought to follow the youth. That was highly inappropriate. But someone else had not deemed it so. A prickle of suspicion had been his first reaction upon seeing Merenwë enter those same woods several minutes later. Instead of going back to the house, Lindir had stopped and pondered what to do about such misconduct. At length, he decided to go after the advisor and see what he was about.

Halfway into the woods, he stopped. What business was it of his anyway? From what he had observed, it seemed that Merenwë was keeping an assignation with Elros. Joint pangs of jealousy and resignation smote the steward. Well, why not? Merenwë was an Elf of good family and standing, a respected counsellor for all his less than likeable demeanor. A good match for either of Elladan’s sons. 

Not that he even suspected the two of doing any more indiscreet than furtive caresses. That was permissible to a certain extent. And the Peredhil had always been more enterprising in this respect than most, even Elrond in his youth. He sighed. He should have thought hard on his actions before following.

He was about to turn around and retreat when an angry howl rent the peace of the woods.

“Get off me!”

Shocked, Lindir sprinted in the direction whence the cry had come. He came upon Merenwë straddling a furiously resisting Elros. The counsellor had torn open the youth’s tunic and shirt and was now attempting to unlace his breeches. Elros was not making it easy for him, but he was undoubtedly at a disadvantage, supine as he was on the forest floor with the heftier, stronger Elf atop him.

Rage coursed through every creep and cranny of Lindir’s being as he sped toward the grappling pair. He grabbed Merenwë by the scruff of his tunic collar and hauled him off Elros. The by-now reasonless counsellor threw a wild punch at him but it proved but a glancing blow as Lindir stepped back. Before Merenwë gained proper footing, Lindir struck his jaw so hard that he staggered backward. Another blow and he collapsed, senseless.

Lindir ascertained first that he was definitely out cold before turning his attention to Elros. He paused and regarded the young Elf with dawning admiration. 

Elros took his time to study the prone advisor before raising his eyes to Lindir. Gratitude and appreciation lingered in their grey depths. But not turmoil or horror. He was cool and collected even in the aftermath of his first encounter with this manner of adversity. 

Lindir offered him a helping hand. When it was accepted, he pulled the twin to his feet. While Elros dusted himself off, the steward quickly perused his form for any injuries. But though his clothing was rent and his breech-laces loose, he was himself quite unhurt. Lindir blew out a relieved breath.

“My thanks,” Elros softly said. “Your timing was impeccable, Lindir.”

Lindir shook his head. “I cannot believe he dared so heinous a thing,” he remarked. “I am glad I followed you here.”

“You followed?”

A slight blush stained Lindir’s cheeks at the youth’s almost amused tone. “I saw him go after you,” he admitted. “I do not know what impelled me to follow him. Certainly not any suspicion of this! Indeed, I thought you knew of his presence.”

Fine eyebrows rose in amazement. “You thought we were trysting?” Elros half gasped out. “Why ever would I choose _him_ as my first bed-teacher?”

Lindir rolled his eyes at such vivid bluntness. He supposed it was to be expected of Elladan’s son. Not to mention Elrohir’s nephew. “Well, why not?” he countered. “He is handsome enough and of respectable lineage.”

Elros snorted. “As if I care for such things. I have never harbored an interest in Merenwë though he claimed to have felt something for me. He is the last Elf in Arda I would have considered for _that_.” He shook his head in even greater amusement. 

“You sound as if you already have someone in mind,” Lindir murmured as he began cutting down vines with which to bind the advisor. He strove to keep any of his envy from manifesting itself in his voice.

“I do though he does not know it yet,” Elros replied cheekily. “And he will not until the proper time.”

Bending over Merenwë, Lindir was grateful that the task hid his face. It hurt deeply to know the truth in Elros’s heart but he would not permit his feelings to show. He would not inflict such a burden on the younger Elf for burden it would be should Elros learn of his hopeless love. Knowing the Peredhil as he did, Lindir was certain this twin would feel guilt for unwittingly causing him pain. He would not do that to Elros. And so he busied himself with trussing up the counsellor until he could control his feelings once more, comforted by his timely rescue of the twin. At least, he could take some solace from the knowledge that Elros’s first experience in the bed-arts would be with someone he cared for and not at the hands of this would-be ravager.

He averted his face when Elros helped him by binding the advisor’s ankles. When they were done, he bent and easily slung Merenwë over his shoulder. Elros regarded him with sudden admiration.

“You are stronger than I ever suspected, Lindir,” he remarked as they started on the short trek back.

Lindir shook his head. “I have carried heavier loads in my time,” he dismissed. A moment later, he wished he had held his tongue. His answer had only served to remind Elros of what he once had been. A housemaster who had oft joined his staff as they hauled and hefted weighty supplies and the like to the Last Homely House’s various pantries, cellars and storerooms. 

But Elros gave no sign of being put off at all. “Aye, I can imagine you did,” he said. “I hope I shall gain as much strength as yours when I am fully grown. Mayhap I should help the servants in their chores as well.”

Lindir laughed softly. “Your father and uncle used to assist us when they were your age,” he admitted. “Though I warrant it was as much for them to see what they could use in their jests as it was to be of help to us.”

Elros chuckled. “But you continue to do your share though ‘tis no longer required of you,” he remarked. When Lindir only nodded smilingly, he said, “Then I will do mine as well. And I will see if I can persuade Elendir to join me.”

Lindir’s smile widened approvingly. “It will hearten the servants to know your consideration for them as it did in your father’s time. Now come, I would have this problem dealt with soonest.” He shifted the weight on his shoulder to a more comfortable position.

They hurried back to the Last Homely House.

oOoOoOo

Merenwë gained his senses soon after he was dumped on the couch in the main hall of the house. He soon had reason to wish he had not when Nimeithel displayed her seldom seen temper. She scarcely waited for the bewildered advisor to stumble to his feet when she broke away from Elladan and dealt him a hearty buffet. It was no delicate slap designed to leave raked welts, but a solid punch that created a nicely purpling and painful bruise on his cheek. Not for nothing had she once trained under her husband and law-brother’s soldier’s eyes.

Elladan caught his furious wife back lest she resort to violence that might very well end in the latest round of kinslaying to assail Middle-earth.

“Unhand me, _hervenn_!”—husband—she spat. “This cur needs be taught a lesson!”

“And he will be taught one,” Elladan said. “Peace, _seron vell_ , I will not have you overwrought over him. _Gwenyn!_ ”—Twins.

Swiftly, Elendir and Elros caught their mother in their soothing arms, Elros in particular murmuring calming words to her, assuring her of his well-being. After a moment, the woodland princess managed to regain control of herself and she subsided into her sons’ balming embrace.

In the meantime, the elder twins faced a surprisingly unrepentant Merenwë. It was plain the counsellor had been pushed beyond sufferance and no longer cared what they thought of him. He glared at them defiantly then dared to bestow upon Elros a patently unchaste smile.

Elladan would have dealt him a blow of his own as would Elrohir, but neither cared to lower himself to the other Elf’s level. But behind them, Legolas openly flexed his fingers then lowered them to the hilt of his knife. There was no mistaking what he might very well do should the advisor debase his nephew with another leer. Merenwë noted the cold blue eyes and decided to desist from further provoking displays for the moment. 

“You have attempted the most atrocious of offenses, Merenwë,” Elladan snapped. “Not only would you have forced yourself upon one unwilling, but an Elf in his minority as well. What have you to say in your defense, scum?”

Merenwë actually swaggered somewhat or as well as he could with the warriors, Daurin and Enedrion, directly behind him. “‘Twas not to despoil that I sought to take him, but to ensure our eventual mating,” he said, voice shaded with his familiar arrogance. At the collective gasp of shock, he went on, smiling pridefully at Elladan. “You would not have denied me your son if only to save him from fading.”

“You spawn of an orc!” Elladan snarled. “Think you I would have yielded him to one so base?’

“I think you would have, my lord, rather than lose him to the Halls of Awaiting,” Merenwë countered. 

“Better the Halls of Awaiting than be bound in torment to you!” Elros suddenly declared, eyes flashing with burning ice. “Declare your judgment, _Adar_ , and have him gone soonest else I swear I shall deal my own justice!”

Though aching to wrap his fingers around Merenwë’s neck, Elladan swallowed the impulse and nodded. He glanced at Elrohir then stepped back to enfold his family in his arms. He did not trust himself not to break in fury should Merenwë react as tauntingly as before.

Elrohir reached out, grasped the advisor by the collar and roughly pulled him close until they were all but eye-to-eye. The _mithril_ -hued pools glinted with lethal fire. 

“You could not have me to further your ambitions and so thought to take your undeserved reward from another,” he hissed. Merenwë’s eyes widened in surprise at the Elf-knight’s assertion. “You are lower than the orcs who at least do not trouble to mask their baseness before they assault their victims. But you—!”

He shoved Merenwë into the steely grasps of Daurin and Enedrion. “You served our house well in ages past, that we cannot deny,” he coldly said. “That alone has spared you from the punishment you so richly deserve. But your treachery against one of our young cannot be forgiven or forgotten; not here or even in Lindon where we had previously bade you retire. Therefore, it is our decision that you be sent to Círdan to take ship out of Mithlond and sail for Aman where you will rejoin the Noldor you profess to love so much. _They_ will judge you for this transgression under the auspices of the Valar themselves.” 

Merenwë stared popeyed at him. That was not what he had expected at all. To be judged by the Noldor of the Blessed Realm who still strove to atone for their past sins... and they ruled by Finarfin, the Peredhil’s own forefather—! No longer self-assured, he was so busy thinking of all the repercussions of their decision that he did not notice Elladan’s signal to the warriors. He gasped in alarm but had no time to put up much of a resistance when they unceremoniously bundled him out of the hall to confine him in one of the seldom used cells near the barracks.

Elrohir sighed in disgust then turned to regard his brother and the latter’s family. He smiled wanly when Legolas came to his side and slipped an arm around his waist. He glanced at Elros.

“‘Tis fortunate you were able to keep him from doing worse ere Lindir came to you,” he remarked. 

Elros raised his head from his mother’s shoulder. “I would have fought him to the death, Uncle, rather than let him soil me.”

“Hush, dear one,” Nimeithel reproved. “Speak not of such things.”

“But I would have, _Nana_ ”—Mama—Elros gently insisted. “There would have been no other recourse.”

“You mentioned earlier that you did not know whether his assertions were true or not,” Legolas said. “What made you recognize them for false?”

“His accusations against Lindir,” Elros answered.

The steward started then stared at him. He had remained silent all these time, ready to assist if necessary but otherwise stayed by himself by the door leading to the east wing of the house. The others, too, gazed at the younger twin with surprise.

“What did he say about Lindir?” Elladan inquired. 

“He imputed to Lindir his own base desires,” Elros said, eyes going to the steward. “Once he did, I knew him for a liar,” he continued, speaking to Lindir directly. “I knew you would never do any of the things he accused you of.” His eyes softened with utmost respect and genuine affection. “You are too honorable an Elf to ever transgress against me in that manner.”

Lindir felt his cheeks burn. He did not dare look at Elros’s parents or uncles who knew the truth all too well. If only Elros was aware of his own desires, he would not be so kindly in his regard now, the steward thought. But he took hold of himself and managed a whispered, “Thank you.”

“Nay, ‘tis we who should thank you many times over,” Nimeithel said. She went to him. Taking his capable hands into hers, she very softly added, “I confess I had reservations about you when Elladan told me of your love for Elros. But now I know my husband chose wisely in entrusting both our sons to your care.”

Lindir could only mutely nod his head, moved by his lady’s unspoken approbation of his feelings for her child. She smiled then returned to her husband’s embrace.

oOoOoOo

Daurin himself led the contingent that would take Merenwë to Lindon. They left the following morning, the Imladrin captain bearing a letter from Elladan to Círdan explaining the circumstances and requesting the shipwright’s assistance. Merenwë stared glumly at the document Lindir handed to Daurin. He did not doubt in the least that Círdan would accommodate the twin lords of Rivendell with all alacrity.

Before he was led to his mount, he glared at Lindir with a last minute spurt of rancor. “So, you will now find your path clear to your desire,” he snipped. “That should make you happy, half-breed!”

Lindir gazed at him, the pity in his hazel eyes so intense it disconcerted the erstwhile counsellor.

“That is your tragedy, Merenwë,” he quietly rejoined. “You have not learned that love is not about owning but about giving.”

Merenwë stared at him, confused by both his words and his compassion. But he had no more time to consider either when Daurin and another warrior firmly took him to one of the steeds and none too gently hoisted him aloft it. Speedily, the others vaulted onto their own horses and, with a last salute by the captain to the chief steward, departed the grounds of the Last Homely House. 

Lindir watched them until they disappeared from sight. Then, sighing pensively, he entered the house. He neither saw nor sensed the Elf who observed him in turn as he made his way to the study to begin his day’s toils.

********************************************  
Glossary:  
ellith – Elf-maids (sing. elleth)  
ellyn – male Elves  
hîr neth – lordling  
seron vell – beloved  
Adar – Father

_To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

Eryn Gael, Ithilien, _Nínui_ F.A. 81  
“ _Adar_? Would you explain something to us?”

“Ask.”

“Why did you and Uncle Elrohir not pass judgment on Merenwë yourselves?”

Elladan looked at his sons in startlement. As did Lindir who was supervising the laying of tables and benches in the clearing before Legolas’s halls. He surreptitiously eyed the twins and their father, wondering at their belated curiosity.

At the approach of their majority rites, the twins had surprised and delighted their parents by requesting that the celebrations be held in Ithilien. It had been a surprise for they had not previously indicated this preference. It had taken Elladan and Nimeithel unawares. But it had well pleased them. For one, the milder climate of the south would permit the festivities to be held outdoors. But even more important, it meant the entire royal family of Gondor would now be able to attend the rites. There had been the greatest chance that Arwen would be unable to make the long journey north. She was childing again with her sixth and last babe and was prone to the illnesses that beset expecting women of all races. 

And so they had departed for the south towards autumn’s end and wintered in Eryn Gael, residing in the gracious dwelling Legolas and Elrohir called home.

This morn, the colony was humming with activity as its Elves readied their abode for the festivities that very evening. Already, word had reached them of Aragorn and Arwen’s imminent arrival along with their only son, Eldarion, his wife, Ilien, and their two children and his four sisters, three law-brothers and one small niece and an infant nephew.

“Why do you ask this only now?” Elladan said quizzically. Five years had passed since Merenwë’s ignoble departure from Middle-earth.

“In truth, we were so eager to see him punished at the time that we did not give much thought to the reasoning behind your judgment,” Elendir explained.

“But now we very much desire to comprehend it,” Elros said.

“That we may be guided should we be called upon to make a similar choice,” Elendir concluded.

Elladan smiled, not a little proud of their inquisitiveness. “What do you wish to know in particular?” he asked.

Elros said, “Why did you send him to Valinor? Was it your intention that our grandsire and grandam and Grandmother Galadriel be the ones to judge him?”

“Nay, never that,” Elladan replied. “They would have inhibited themselves from such an action in the first place. They are too close in kinship to us to make a sound or just decision. Our reason for sending Merenwë hence was less noble than you may wish.” When neither twin flinched, he continued. 

“We knew he would find it more unbearable to be sent thus than any punishment we might have meted out to him.” He grinned a little ruefully at their astonished stares. “You have your Grandfather Celeborn to thank for that. ‘Twas ever his way of disciplining his own people of Lórien. A simple matter of choosing that which is feared or loathed and using it as a means of chastisement. ‘Twas a most effective means of teaching a lesson and still is.”

The brethren shook their heads in amazement then looked to where their silver-haired forefather sat with their mother, discussing with her some matter or other.

Celeborn had been away during the events that had culminated in Merenwë’s banishment. But even then he’d had a great influence on his grandsons’ subsequent decisions. Admiration stirred in the twins’ blue-ringed grey eyes.

“Thank you, _Ada_ ”—Papa—they chorused before hurrying off to complete their own chores. 

Still smiling, Elladan turned his attention back to his previous task. He caught Lindir looking his way. He raised questioning eyebrows. The steward flushed embarrassedly and hastily turned away. 

From the window of his second-level bedchamber, Elrohir observed him in turn. The warrior had been putting the final touches to the portraits of the twins both had begged of him as his coming-of-age gifts to them. Hearing their voices, he had risen to his feet and peeked out the window to see what they were about. He was as amused as his brother at their curiosity, however late in coming it was. He’d taken a further moment to survey the activity in the clearing. His gaze had eventually fallen on Lindir.

He wondered what the steward would do. After this day, Elendir and Elros would be free to pursue and be pursued. Would Lindir make his love known to Elros? From what he had gleaned from the other Elf’s utterances and past behavior, he doubted it.

'He will continue to suffer in silence for want of love as I once did,' he thought sadly.

A pair of arms snaked themselves around his waist from behind. He shivered as Legolas ran a wicked tongue up the curved rim of his ear to lightly suckle the delicate tip.

“I did not hear you come in,” he murmured, turning his head to steal a kiss from the archer.

“You were busy pondering Lindir’s travails,” Legolas said. He held the Elf-knight closer. “He reminds you of your own self,” he softly added.

Elrohir nodded, willingly leaning against the lean but powerful frame of his mate. “He is in a most difficult position,” he opined. “At least, my hesitation to woo you did not stem from a sense of inequality in our stations in life. His does.”

“Yet our nephews have never set great store by such considerations,” Legolas commented.

Elrohir shrugged. “Would that Lindir might believe that and declare himself.”

“There is, of course, the risk that Elros might decline his courtship after all,” Legolas gently pointed out.

“There is always that risk in matters of the heart,” Elrohir agreed. “But Lindir would take it if he thought himself worthy of Elros’s regard. He is no coward.”

“Only overly respectful of your family’s exalted heritage,” Legolas finished with a series of nips to the side of the Elf-knight’s neck.

“Aye, that is the sum of it.” A pause. “Calenlass, if you go any higher, no collar will suffice to conceal the evidence of your affection for me.”

“As if you care,” Legolas purred, purposely leaving a blatant love-bruise that no tunic would be able to hide.

Elrohir, caught between a groan and a chuckle, settled on a gasp instead. “Shouldn’t you be helping down yonder?” he mildly inquired as yet another mark made its appearance on his fair skin.

Legolas peered over his shoulder at the goings-on below. His sister had corralled several Elves and was sweetly inveigling them into doing whatever she desired of them. 

“Nimeithel has everything well in hand,” he murmured. “As do I.”

Elrohir uttered a much louder gasp when a questing hand disappeared down the front of his breeches. He gazed sideways at Legolas in wry admiration. The archer had loosened his lacings without his knowledge.

He said with some difficulty as he was clutched and fondled and stroked, “Shirking your duties, my prince?”

Legolas chuckled breathily. “I am merely taking time to attend to other matters, _melethron_.”—lover. 

Satisfied with the warrior’s state of arousal, he released him. Elrohir turned to face him, pulling him close in a patently unchaste manner. Legolas smiled and cupped his face, leaned in to take a deep draught of his lips. When he drew back, the argent eyes were as lust-darkened as he could desire.

“You have tended to your gift to the _gwenyn_ long enough, Aduial,” he whispered. “‘Tis time you tended to me for a spell.”

oOoOoOo

The rites were duly observed with all the gravity and merriment the occasion demanded. At their core were two of the comeliest Elves ever to be born into Middle-earth. So beautiful that it was not surprising a good number of the _Edhil_ present could not help hoping for the honor of gaining either twin’s first bedding. And if they followed in their father’s footsteps, that event would not wait out the night’s ending.

Elendir made no secret at all of his interest in the beauteous Elf-maids of Eryn Gael, ogling them openly in flagrant consideration of their charms. Nimeithel was seen to cast an accusing if slightly amused look at Elladan who seemed uncharacteristically abashed by his son’s behavior.

Elros, however, kept his desire well concealed. He flirted maddeningly with all and sundry but showed none more favor than another. Clearly, if he was going to use the occasion as his brother obviously planned to, he was not going to let anyone know who would be sharing his bed this night.

Lindir studied him pensively. Of one thing the steward was certain, it would be an _ellon_ that Elros would take as his bed-teacher. The young Elf had made that clear five years ago. And he was not one of Ithilien’s Elves for Elros had also indicated a long selected choice.

He watched the younger twin now as he jested with some of the Imladrin warriors who had accompanied the family to Gondor – Helmir, Dirion and Meluin. It might be one of them, Lindir thought. Elros had kept company with these three quite frequently for the past many years. It would be natural for Elros to gravitate to an Elven soldier’s uncommon strength and battle prowess, traits his own father possessed. Lindir also knew they were present at Elros’s own behest. But of course. He would have ensured that his chosen lover would be amongst the company that had escorted his family south.

His attention was caught by a commotion amongst the dancers. Queen Arwen had been coaxed into joining a woodland dance with Elessar despite her swollen belly. Her children and children-by-law were lost in their mirth at the sight of Aragorn trying to avoid getting butted by the result of his latest siring. 

Lindir broke into an amused grin as well. All Gondor had been awed by their queen’s fecundity. Few could believe that a lady with four grandchildren to her name could still be capable of carrying yet another babe of her own. But Arwen, while shorn of the immortality of her race, had not lost the agelessness of the _Edhil_. Thus, she was still youthful of face and form, her countenance unlined, her hair un-streaked by grey and her body still fertile. Only toward her life’s end, as with the scions of Aragorn’s line, would she know the aging of mortals though not their full weakening. 

It was as the dance was coming to an end that Lindir noticed Elendir slipping away arm-in-arm with an _elleth_ of considerable beauty and elegance. He shook his head. The older twin certainly knew how to choose well. The Elf-maid was no innocent; she would be a most enthralling and thorough teacher this night.

He glanced back at Elros to find him gone. He swallowed hard. As was Dirion.

Pain lanced through Lindir’s very being in that instant. So, it was for Dirion that Elros had reserved this night. He struggled to collect himself, sternly reminding himself that he had known this would happen and, therefore, should not affect him overmuch. But he found he could not still the sudden frantic beating of his heart or loosen the cruel tightening of his throat.

Fearing to be seen by the others in such a state of obvious misery, he rose to his feet and left the clearing. He hurried to the small garden behind Legolas’s house. No one would venture here. He would be alone. He would be safe from prying eyes. If he wept, none would witness him and shrivel him with pity.

Lindir sank down onto a bench. History had repeated itself it seemed. Just as he had stood by and quietly watched Elladan slip away from his coming-of-age celebration with a beauteous Lindon maiden so had he now endured the Elvenlord’s younger son leaving to keep an assignation with another _ellon_.

With a heavy heart he wondered at his fate to love those who were beyond his reach. For just as Elladan had once been forbidden to him so now was Elros, his father’s assent notwithstanding. He sighed disconsolately. Once more he would resign himself to watching over his beloved while others took what he himself so greatly desired but was forced to deny himself. As Elladan had earlier commented, it was a wonder he had not faded from the grief. But then to fade would be to separate himself from his love and that was far worse than having it go unrequited. 

It came to him then that things would not be quite that simple. His love for Elladan’s son was deeper than what he’d felt for Elladan himself. The realization struck him hard. I may very well fade after all, he thought. Mayhap ‘tis time I considered departing for Valinor. But the very idea of leaving his heart’s choice behind weighed all too heavily on him. 

'As I did not leave your father, so will I stay at your side, _pen neth_ '—young one—he decided sadly. Even if it cost him the ultimate price. 

He started when a slight figure appeared before him. He stared at Elros; the youth looked almost ethereal in the soft silvery glow of the lamps. He had doffed his tunic and was clad in the thin shirt and fine breeches the outer raiment had hidden. He regarded the steward uncertainly. 

“Elros!” Lindir half exclaimed, surprised to see the young Elf. He swiftly rose to his feet. “Why did you leave Dirion?” 

“Dirion?” Elros repeated bemusedly. Then he suddenly smiled. “Did you think he was with me? I saw him go to his quarters with an Ithilien Elf.” 

Lindir was dumbstruck a moment. He had made a wrong assumption.

“Aye, I thought you were together,” he admitted. “But why are you here? Do you not enjoy the festivities?”

Elros shrugged. “I do,” he replied. “But I came to claim what you have withheld, Lindir.” 

“What would that be?” the steward asked bemusedly. 

“Why, what else but your gift to me for my coming-of-age,” the twin answered with a grin. 

Lindir flushed. “I am so sorry, Elros,” he said embarrassedly. “In truth I did not think to get you one. But I promise I will do so if you will but wait.” 

The younger Elf laughed softly. The sound made Lindir wish he could bolt before his reaction betrayed him. “But I know what I want, Lindir, and you need not seek it elsewhere for the gift I desire is right here.” 

Lindir looked at him, perplexed. “What gift do you desire?” he asked cautiously. 

The sapphire-ringed grey eyes gleamed softly. “You,” Elros quietly replied. 

For several moments, Lindir could only stare at him in incredulous shock. “I-I beg your pardon?” he finally managed to say. 

“‘Tis you I would have on this special day,” Elros earnestly told him. “The gift I desire above all else. I have been waiting for nigh ten years to claim it.” 

The steward was rendered speechless once more. Elros pressed on, his eyes glittering in the dim light. “I overheard you when you spoke with _Adar_ that summer. I did not mean to eavesdrop but when I heard your voice and what you were saying I could not help myself. You cannot imagine how happy I was to know you felt thusly about me. And I would have you know that I am not beyond your reach. I never was, Lindir.” 

“But you-you never indicated—” Lindir stammered in disbelief. 

“‘Twas to spare you any suspicions of your intentions,” Elros explained. “I sensed how much you wanted me. You would have been even more hard-pressed to suppress your desire had you known of my regard. I did not want _Adar_ and _Naneth_ to suspect you of any unseemly designs upon me.” 

Lindir forced himself to calm down. “Then ‘twas I you were referring to that day—?” 

“In the woods, aye,” Elros affirmed, eyes sparkling with mingled mirth and open affection. 

The steward took a deep breath. “Elros, do not ask this of me,” he replied in a hushed voice. As a sudden frown appeared on the youth’s fair countenance, he swept on. “I cannot in all honor give you your desire.” 

“Why not?” Elros queried stubbornly. “Why would you refuse me this when I know you care for me.” 

“Aye, I care for you, as I have always cared for all your family,” Lindir said, willing his voice to remain steady and unquavering. 

Elros’s eyes narrowed confusedly. ”I heard you say you had feelings for me. Was I mistaken?” he said, his voice suddenly small, his eyes widening with consternation. “You told _Adar_ that you had loved him,” he half whispered. “Did you truly?” 

Lindir sighed and nodded. Elros stepped back, visibly flinching. “Then ‘tis Father you desire and not me,” he choked, his voice ringing with pain. He lowered his eyes, his cheeks beginning to redden. “I misunderstood. I am sorry for imposing on you.” 

Lindir felt his own heart clench at the anguish in the twin’s voice. His face flaming with humiliation, Elros spun on his heels to flee. But strong arms caught him and he was enveloped in the steward’s embrace. 

“Nay!” Lindir declared softly to the trembling Elf. “I loved him once but that is past. ‘Tis you who holds my heart now, Elros, only you.” 

“Then why would you deny me?” Elros whispered brokenly. 

“I am not worthy of your regard,” Lindir murmured. “You are descended from kings and legends. I am but a mere steward who once was a lowly housemaster.” 

“A housemaster and steward who has served my family for millennia,” Elros reverently said. “My teacher and mentor and dear friend.” He lifted his eyes to gaze at Lindir. “My heart’s choice.” The steward caught his breath as he espied the boundless emotion in their depths. 

“You are still young,” he said, stalling for time. “You will change your mind some day and rue that your first brush with love was with someone like me.” 

“I will not change my mind,” the twin whispered. “Do you not see? I am fated for you. I would have you find your solace in my arms. Please, let me love you.” 

His words shattered what little remained of Lindir’s resolve. He cupped the beloved face and claimed Elros’s lips. Instantly, the younger Elf melted into his embrace, surrendering wholeheartedly to his kiss. Lindir groaned against the other’s silky mouth, amazed at just how untouched Elladan’s son was.

He drew back with an effort and stared at Elros. The young Elf’s eyes were dark with newly awakened passion, his cheeks a delicious rosy hue. 

“Do not stop now, Lindir!” Elros exclaimed. “If you truly love me, you will make this night special for me!” 

So demanding, Lindir thought with a rush of desire. He did not know whether to laugh or protest when Elros pulled him back towards the house. He was quite undone however by his soon-to-be lover’s audacity as the younger Elf paused on the stairs several times to claim a myriad kisses from him. By the time they reached Elros’s room, he was no longer of a mind to desist from having what was so lovingly offered to him. 

Scarcely had they entered the bedchamber when he drew the willing body into his arms and reclaimed the pliant lips. Gently urging them to part, he finally savored the sweetness he had long believed strictly forbidden to him. Skillfully, thoroughly, hungrily, he plundered the reaches of that honeyed warmth while his hands roamed the slender body. He delighted in the feel of the fine muscles beneath the twin’s thin shirt. 

The thought of getting to know this cherished form so very intimately vanquished all remaining restraint. He drew away once more, silencing Elros’ protests by reaching for the ties of the younger Elf’s shirt and undoing them one by one. Color flooded the twin’s cheeks when he realized what this portended. But he did not resist and remained absolutely still as he was slowly, ever so gently undressed. 

When he was finally clad in naught but his skin, Lindir stood back to look at him. Elros forced himself to meet the older Elf’s eyes. The passion-darkened gaze of the steward robbed him of his breath. Striving to maintain some semblance of calm, he reached out his own hands to the clasps on Lindir’s tunic. 

“Do I get to unwrap my present?” he shakily asked. 

Lindir could not help smiling at the choice of words. He nodded, letting his hands drop to his sides while Elros set to divesting him of his garments. Layer upon layer of rich material slid to the floor. When he was done Elros looked up to survey his gift. He sucked in his breath sharply as he beheld Lindir’s bared form. 

“You are more magnificent than I imagined,” he whispered in awe.

“Not as wondrous as you,” Lindir huskily replied. “You cannot know what this moment means to me,” he added, drawing Elros towards the bed. With utmost tenderness he bore the twin down, following him swiftly, melding their forms together for the first time without the barrier of clothing. 

After a lifetime of denial and restraint, of loneliness and silence, Lindir poured all that he had in his heart and soul onto the beloved Elf in his arms. Skill learned in carnal exploration however shallow and empty he finally put to use in love. Mastery in seduction he diverted into tender, worshipful courtship. Elros realized with deep gratitude that he was reaping countless years’ worth of knowledge and suppressed emotion. 

When Lindir took him the world seemed to dissolve into nothingness save for the heat of their straining bodies, the beating of their hearts, the sounds of their increasingly shallow breaths. No passive lover despite his youth and inexperience, Elros relied on his instincts and arched up into the older Elf’s thrusts, pressed his mouth against sweat-sheened skin, delighting in the tremors that rippled the sleek muscles of Lindir’s shoulders and chest. 

The steward gasped at the sensations wrought by the twin’s caresses. Intent on prolonging the pleasure for his newly claimed lover, he clamped down hard on the urge to drive hard into the supple body beneath him and take his joy soonest. In so doing, he heightened their pleasure, leaving them both panting wildly for more. 

But inevitably, inexorably, their joined bodies demanded completion. Lindir reached between them to caress his young lover and ensure his release. Elros reared in shock at the joint sensations of being stroked and filled at the same time. Sobbing, he yielded to Lindir’s ministrations, uttering the steward’s name as he spent himself between their slender forms. It took but a few scant seconds for Lindir to follow suit, his body pushed over the edge by the clenching of Elros’s muscles around him. Pleasure so pure and profound undid him completely; he had never felt the like before. Then again, he had never shared his body in love before. 

Careful not to crush Elros beneath his heavier bulk, he lay beside the young Elf, pulling him against his chest. For several moments, they were content to lie thusly, enjoying each other’s close presence, murmuring words of love to each other. 

At length, Elros stirred and lifted his head from Lindir’s chest. “Father bade me wait until I am much older,” he softly said. “But I must know now, Lindir—will you bind to me one day?” 

Lindir stared at him in shock. “Elros, you are newly come of age,” he protested. “A binding is for eternity.”

“Which pleases me all the more,” Elros smiled. “I will not demand that we bind at once. My parents would never countenance it. But I would demand a betrothal at the very least.”

Lindir stroked his cheek with his knuckles. “Why so hasty, _seron vell_?”—beloved.

The twin’s eyes sparkled at the endearment. “I would like to ensure that no other will take you away from me,” he said. 

“Take me away?” Lindir echoed. “Who would want me so much as to attempt it?”

“You belittle your charms overmuch,” Elros gently chided. “Do you not know that half the warriors of Imladris adore you?” He quickly pressed a kiss to his lover’s mouth when the other stiffened. “You shared many a bed amongst them and they in turn told me of your charms. Helmir, Dirion and Meluin were especially forthcoming about you.”

Lindir was speechless. “So that is why you kept company with them,” he gasped at last. “You were asking them about me!”

Elros raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Of course! What did you think—?” He suddenly guffawed. “You thought my choice was one of them?” He laughed out loud, the happy sound music to Lindir’s ears. “Nay, they knew what I was about and were all too glad to counsel me.”

“In what matter?”

He groaned when the young Elf suddenly straddled him. “This,” Elros whispered. “They told me you enjoy being ridden now and then, _meleth_.”—love.

He soon proved that he was indeed Elladan’s son if his instincts in love-play were any indication thereof. It was an exhausted Lindir who weakly but laughingly pulled him close in the wake of their second coupling. 

“You have not given me your answer,” Elros pantingly reminded him.

Lindir smiled widely, his wondrous hazel eyes bright with love and devotion. “I can think of no greater blessing than to be yours for eternity, Elros,” he whispered.

With a contented sigh, Elros snuggled into his arms. Lindir turned his head and looked out the window at the starry sky beyond. Gratitude welled up within him and he silently thanked the Powers for the incomparable gift they had bestowed on him this day. He looked at his love as the other slowly gave in to the pull of sleep. 

_Mine at last_ , he thought with delight before joining Elros in peaceful slumber. 

oOoOoOo

Elladan and Elrohir glanced up at the dimly lighted windows of the twins’ bedchambers. They were seated at one of the tables, their respective mates leaning against them, also regarding the windows above.

“For one who was never known for moderation, you are overly concerned about your sons’ activities tonight,” Elrohir remarked. “Surely you expected this.” 

Elladan cast a jaundiced look at him; the look turned decidedly more pointed when he espied the telltale bruise above his brother’s collar. 

“You are fortunate you have no children to worry about,” Elladan said. “Considering what you and I know about these matters, I will not deny feeling some anxiety.”

Legolas, who had been nuzzling Elrohir’s neck, lifted his golden head and looked wonderingly at the older twin. “Who would have thought that one as voracious as you would be rendered so anxious by this moment?”

“I had thought they would delay it at least.”

“And why would they when neither you nor Elrohir did?”

Elladan sighed at this reminder of his youthful impatience. Nimeithel laughed and placed a soothing hand on his thigh. 

“Knowing you, I fully expected this,” she admitted. “But you are not alone in your concerns, _meleth_. I, too, hope for their felicity come morning.”

Elladan smiled and held her closer, dipping his head to kiss her neck. “At least, we can be certain of someone else’s felicity,” he murmured against her sweet flesh.

“Aye, finally,” Elrohir chuckled. He glanced up again at Elros’s windows. “He is most skilled in keeping secrets.”

“In that he seems to have taken after you,” Legolas said.

Elrohir grinned then looked about. It was late and the celebrations were winding down. Already, Aragorn and Arwen had retired to their chamber that the queen might take her rest. Their children had followed their example. He glanced at his brother and laughed softly. Nimeithel’s hand on Elladan’s thigh was proving far more than soothing if her husband’s obvious reaction was any indication of his state of being.

“I believe ‘tis time you both retired as well, _gwaniuar_ ”—older twin—he teased. “There are still a number of young ones present and it will not do to frighten them with your antics.”

Elladan snorted but made no protest. He simply stood up, gently but firmly pulling Nimeithel along with him.

“To bed, wife,” he purred and led her back to the house.

Legolas watched them go then gasped as he felt himself firmly clutched as well. He stared at Elrohir. The Elf-knight was lazily looking at him but the depths of his _mithril_ eyes were anything but languid.

“Revenge, Aduial?” the prince whispered a little unevenly as his need was steadily and relentlessly stoked.

A devouring kiss stole his breath away. Elrohir drew back and smiled at the results of his ministrations.

“Come, Calenlass,” he cooed. “‘Tis time I tended to you for more than a spell.”

************************************  
Glossary:  
Nínui - Sindarin for February  
Adar - Father  
gwenyn – twins  
Naneth – Mother

_End of Part XXIX._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Part XXX: Aduial: Soul of a Knight – For love of his Elf-knight, Legolas faces the hardest and most bitter test of all._


End file.
